


Pop Goes the House Elf

by trebleneverbringsmedown



Series: Fantastic Five [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, House Elves have powerful magic okay?, Not Canon Compliant, Portraits, frame hopping, gratuitously making shit up as I go and playing with the laws of magic because I can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 22:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16168319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trebleneverbringsmedown/pseuds/trebleneverbringsmedown
Summary: Charity slipped back into his frame at the house and called for Aurora. The house elf popped into the hall.“Yes?”“They’ve been taken.” The house elf snapped her fingers and popped out of sight.-How Charity and Aurora teamed up to save the Fantastic Five after everything at MACUSA goes sideways.





	Pop Goes the House Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The events of "The Grindelwald Job - Chapter 6" from Charity and Aurora's POV.

Charity nearly died (again) when her grandson willingly brought people into the house for the first time since The Events.

He was never much of a social boy to begin with, but the fact that the only beings he really socialized with outside of his (highly questionable and downright illegal) work were the house elves worried everyone. Even those who claimed they disowned Percival for his actions after The Events and his newfound (worryingly successful) life of crime.

The four newcomers were an odd collection: the witch and her no-maj boyfriend ( _Merlin and Morgana how did that even happen?)_ , the witch’s auror sister, and the eccentric magizoologist. It seemed all four possessed the same sense of duty, honor, and justice Percival did, which was an auspicious beginning, and a hatred of Grindelwald that rivaled Percival’s, which was even better. The group seemed to balance itself out with the mix of personalities, something Charity knew her grandson would benefit from.

She had high hopes for this group.

Until they agreed to help Percival break into MACUSA and steal Grindelwald’s wand and she realized that they were, sadly, as barmy as he was.

It wasn’t that solid of a plan, in her opinion, but she opted to stay out of it and let Percival make his own mistakes. He would, hopefully, be invisible for the duration of the madness after all.

And if she just so happened to be visiting her husband in his portrait at MACUSA, where he watched over the halls with the other former heads of the DMLE, well, she was just trying to convince him to come back to the house. Its station on the wall outside the Director’s office was just a coincidence.

“You will at least make an appearance for Bertie’s Death Day.”

“Absolutely not. Absolutely not!” Milton protested. “Not with Percival sullying the family name the way he is! The boy is a _criminal_ now, Charity! And not just a criminal, a _murderer_.” Charity pressed her lips into a thin line.

“He did not murder that man, Milton, and you know it.”

“The evidence says otherwise.” Milton ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit that Charity swore had caused him to bald well before his time during his life, and sighed heavily. “Charity, I love Percival. You know I do. But I cannot condone his actions and I cannot reside in a frame in the same house as a man wanted by the very government our family helped build.” Charity resigned herself to continued trips to the Woolworth Building and prompted Milton to fill her in on recent events. He did so happily, glad for the change in subject.

Nearly two hours later, Porpentina Goldstein appeared with Newton Scamander’s case, hovering just outside Grindelwald’s office. The wizard had left for a meeting with the President and her council some time earlier, which was an integral part of their cockamamy plan. Charity’s non-existent breath caught and she watched, waiting. Percival was there somewhere, invisible to anyone’s eye thanks to the demiguise.

“Charity, are you listening to--”

“Quiet,” she hissed.

 _“Nah, he’s in with the president and council right now,”_ she heard an auror say. _“Your crazy magizoologist do something again?”_

  
“Oh Lord, what has that boy done now?” Milton asked, sounding more amused than anything. “This should be good, my darling. The magizoologist never has a dull day here.” Porpentina laughed nervously. “We should have brought one in during my time as Director. Do you know--”

“Milton.” His mouth snapped shut.

 _“Well, you know Newt,”_ she shrugged. _“Guess I’ll have’ta talk to him later.”_  

 _“Hey, Goldstein!”_ Another auror appeared, grinning from ear to ear. _“You hear your sister picked up a no-maj? She talked Mayhew into letting her try to obliviate him!”_ Charity clamped a hand over her mouth.

That wasn’t part of their plan.

Something was wrong.

 Maybe Percival wasn’t there. Maybe he had been identified on the way into the building.

“I have to go,” she informed her husband. She gave a him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “I promised Ophelia I would pass through on my next visit and hear the latest about the library’s work restoring those texts from the Revolution.”

“Oh. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” With that, Charity dashed out of his frame and into the next. She didn’t stop to so much as apologize until she was closer to the Obliviators’ stations, not even when she ran down former President Tempest Scoggs during her daily seminar on the evils of imbibing too much Firewhiskey. She caught sight of Queenie Goldstein’s golden hair and dashed after them. The witch had her hand curled around the dazed looking no-maj’s arm, easily guiding him through the mess of people and trying to behave as though everything were perfectly fine.

“Good job, Queenie!” Someone hollered after her.

“Thanks, boys!” She beamed, throwing a wink over her shoulder.

“Where we going?” The no-maj asked quietly.  “What’d you hear?”

“Just keep walking,” Queenie ordered. Charity kept pace with them until they ducked into an alcove. She got into the closest frame she could, conveniently empty and mostly out of the way of the normal foot traffic.

“Ms. Goldstein!” She whispered. Queenie’s head appeared around the corner, eyes wide and flicked her wand before letting her shoulders loosen slightly.

“Tina’s panicking something terrible, Mrs. Graves. Something’s gone wrong.” Charity fought the urge to scream.

“She’s just nervous is all,” Charity assured her as calmly as she could. “There were two auror’s who engaged her outside Grindelwald’s office. She didn’t start truly panicking until one of them said you’d be obliviating the no-maj. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I couldn’t take a chance that they wouldn’t foul it up!” The fear in the young witch’s eyes gave Charity pause. marriage to Milton had been arranged, yes, but they had grown to love each other in time and they did so fiercely. Having that from that from the start…Charity wouldn’t want to lose that either.

“My dear girl--” Queenie turned her head suddenly, eyes impossibly wide. She gasped and stumbled, gripping the wall for support.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” The no-maj asked worriedly, appearing behind her shoulder. “Queenie?” She gripped the no-maj’s arm and turned as pale as the ghosts that floated through the halls.

_“He’s got them.”_

Charity ran. 

The portraits were abuzz with the news that Grindelwald had captured three people trying to break into his office. 

_“Leave it to the Brits. They tried to conquer us once--”_

“ _That auror should’ve been fired on the spot, attacking that woman in broad daylight--”_

_“The Graves’ have always been something but to break into the Director’s office? Unimaginable!”_

_“--foreigners in the congress! It’s no wonder we haven’t fallen yet!”_

_“--so sad the line is going to end with him, there’s no way he’ll escape this. It’ll be the execution pool for him, mark my words_.”

“ _\--that’s what you get really--”_

It took her several minutes before she finally found one that could confirm it: Percival, Newton, and Porpentina had been taken to the sublevels that held the execution pool. Annabeth Morgan had been a kindly mediwitch in her life, and her portrait was very much the same. She laid a comforting hand on Charity’s shoulder, eyes filled with sympathy.

“I truly am sorry for your loss, Madame Graves,” she said quietly. Charity shook her head.

“No. No, I _refuse_ to lose anyone else, Annabeth.” She took off again, back in the direction she had left the witch and her no-maj. The alcove was, of course, empty when she arrived.

“Where did the witch go?” She demanded of the next frame’s occupant, a sallow-faced wizard who’d contributed something or other to the world of herbology in the late 1800s.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The witch in that alcove. She had a--wizard with her. Where did they go?” The wizard sniffed and looked down his too-pointed nose at her.

“I can assure you, madam, I do not pay attention to such salacious activities. I have requested several times that the Congress relocate my frame elsewhere, as has Master Perny who occupies the frame you are currently in--”

“ _Where did they go_?” Charity snarled, stepping into his frame with her wand brandished. He took a step back. Clearly, the painter had forgotten to paint him with his wand if he wasn't defending himself. He pointed over his shoulder and Charity broke into another run and she kept running until she caught up with them.

“Where are you going?” She demanded, not even bothering to muffle her voice. The noise in the halls did the job well enough.

“Newt’s case,” she said. “I need to get the case.”

“You need to get my grandson and your sister--”

“Newt’s case is the priority,” Queenie cut her off. “We agreed on that before going into this. There’s no telling what Grindelwald would do to those poor creatures. We get the case, then we get the others. They’re still alive. Knowing them, they’ll figure a way out of it.”

“They are going to the execution pool, you stupid girl!” The witch ignored her and continued walking at a brisk clip with the no-maj at her side. Charity wished she could hex her from the canvas. Instead, she ran back to her husband’s frame. His expression said it all. 

“Charity--”

“Not now, Milton.” She slipped back into his frame at the house and called for Aurora. The house elf popped into the hall.

“Yes?”

“They’ve been taken.” The house elf snapped her fingers and popped out of sight.

* * *

 

When Aurora entered service with the Graves family, she had immediately fallen in love with the strange collection of witches and wizards that she came to consider her own and she would be the first to admit that that fierce familial love made her incredibly protective of them.

Especially Percival.

When he had become an auror, she had hoped that he would finally settle into his own skin and start focusing on other aspects of his life.

She missed having babies in the house.

After The Events, she had just hoped he would live from one day to the next.

Her only comfort was knowing that, If she focused her magic well enough, she could trace him just in case.

It was a good thing she could, because his latest scheme was going to be his last if she didn’t get there fast enough.

With a muffled _pop_ she appeared in an alley. It was disorienting to say the least, as she knew well enough what happened to those who tried to break into the magical congress. She had heard plenty while serving those in the Most Honorable and Patriotic House Graves, and the thought of what Percival might be facing had sent her after him before Charity could give her any more information.

A terrified Queenie Goldstein rounded on her, wand drawn.

“Hey, the house elf!” The no-maj said enthusiastically. “Aurora, yeah? How’d you know where we--”

“Charity sent me,” Aurora cut him off. She didn’t have time to explain the world of magic to him. “Are they in there?” She demanded, pointing a finger at the case that Queenie held tightly in her hand. 

“Yes. All three of them. We need to get some place safe. Do you know--?” Aurora surged forward, clamping a hand around both of their wrists and apparated them into the library of the Graves House. 

She felt her magics slipping, used almost to the point of a full drain, and the world tilted below her. 

“Whoa!” The no-maj was at her side instantly, hesitantly reaching out to make sure she was still breathing. “You okay?” He asked, helping her settle on the floor. Queenie summoned a glass and poured water into it.

“Here,” she said, kneeling down. She helped her take a few sips.

“Aurora will be fine,” she assured them, reverting back to basic speech. “Magics drain. House elveses, we can get through wardses, through what is unplottable, and bring thingses with us. Takes  _much_ magic.”  

“Oh, oh no, you should’ve said something, honey,” Queenie sighed, clearly worried for the elf. The no-maj rolled his jacket up and tucked it under her head. Aurora decided she liked this pair. “We could’ve figured something out.”

“You said, they’re safe?” Queenie nodded. “Okay. Once I know he’s safe. You tell that stupid, _stupid_ boy I’m not talking to him. Stupid _humans_!” She felt herself tearing up. “So _stupid_!” The tears turned into wails, and before she could process what was happening, Queenie was hugging her, murmuring words of comfort. Aurora held on and let herself cry. 


End file.
